


It's All His Fault

by Aether_Pheonix



Category: Eddsworld, Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: A giant misunderstood hellspawn, Blood, Burns, Delusions, Drinking, Failed Redemtion, Gore, Guilt, Hallucinations, He'd probably get along with Edd, He's a tad sassy, Horrible Puns, Hurt/Comfort, I use the tears of feels in my morning coffee, Implied Self-Harm, Insanity, Lots of Hurt, M/M, Mom Edd, Not Suicidal, Not as much comfort as youd like, Occasionally Lighthearted, Other, Patryk is a nice guy, Sadness, Self-Harm, Smoking, Somewhat Homocidal, Susan the Bass, The End, The Red Army, Tord Redemption, Tord is a Gremlin, misinterpreted feelings, post-The End, sad end
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-07-26 06:47:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7564291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aether_Pheonix/pseuds/Aether_Pheonix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom feels irrationally guilty about sending his former "frienemy" to a flaming grave, and he tries to drink it away. Keyword, tries. Mother Edd picks it up fast, and decides to do something about it. Though, he didn't expect things to work out the way they did. Aside from a very confused Matt, everything is great. He has his friends back, and that's what matters. </p><p>After all, they've been through hell and back together. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A little bit of guilt, a dash of hate, and a spoonful of spite.

It's dark outside. Not, 'oh, it's dark, no one will see us make out.' or, 'the way the moonlight hits your face is....stunning...' Nope. No starlight, no moon, just darkness. Light rain beat off the male's head, or rather, his dark blue hood. He grumbled as he fumbled with the keys to his home, finally just shoving them in the lock and bursting through, earning the attention of his housemates. 

"Tom! Hi!" Edd greeted from the couch, looking towards Tom. A wide smile spread across the brunet's face, warm and inviting. It'd cheer anyone else up in a heartbeat, but Tom wasn't in the mood. "Did you get what we needed?" Surprise widened his eyes before remembering he had a heavy white grocery bag draped across one of his arms, unceremoniously tucked into his large hoodie pockets. 

"Yes! Do you? I can't wait any longer, I'm so hungryyy!" Matt's face saddened in a bout of self-pity, which Tom didn't want to admit was amusing. He grumbled, walking to the kitchen and dropping the bag on the island, not bothering to answer. 

"Matt, we have plenty of food. We only asked Tom to pick up some popcorn and such, for the movie!" Edd was focusing on Matt at the moment, so he didn't notice Tom shove a bottle of whatever-the-fuck into his hoodie. To be honest, Tom couldn't care less as to what it was. He just needed some form of alcohol in him. 

"I know." The ginger chirped, popping up and essentially skipping into the kitchen. Edd followed him, as if second nature. Tom rolled his "eyes", not out of annoyance, but momentary fondness. As said before, he wasn't in the mood for positive emotion, but realising the trio almost never went anywhere without each other can in no way be a bitter thought. It was heartwarming, to say the least. Constantly having open-minded friends by your side, through thick and thin. 

It was at this moment, Edd noticed Tom wasn't making any witty comments about Matt almost burning the popcorn. He furrowed his brows together, and stopped helping Matt, who only got louder. 

"Tom, what's the matter?" He smirked a bit, no where near malicious. "You're much quieter than usual." Edd gestured knowingly to Matt, who was battling smoke and "fire demons". 

Tom only waved his had, throwing a half-assed smirk their way before moving to exit the now stuffy kitchen. "I'm just tired. I think I'm going to go to bed or something, don't wait for me." It took a moment for Edd to realize that he was referring to the movie.

"Oh! Oh, yeah, okay." Edd frowned, holding a bowl out to Matt without taking his eyes off Tom. He didn't need to see what he was doing, as he had memorized this house a million times over. Though, he doesn't go in the attic much. You can understand why. Edd couldn't shake the feeling that Tom was upset about something. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the neck of a bottle of....vodka? Sticking out of Tom's blue hoodie, which confused Edd further. It's not like Tom had to hide when he drank, he pretty much does it all the time anyways. 

Maybe something was really up with Tom. Edd sighed before sniffed the air, turning away from his spikey-haired friend, mind instantaneously switching gears. 

"Hey, Matt, what's that smell? It smells-" He then noticed Matt had been screaming, and that he had set the microwave on fire. Edd groaned, and remembered that they never let Matt use the oven or the microwave for a reason. (He gets distracted by his reflection) 

Tom only snickered to himself as he heard the not-so-angry yells from his room. He knew they didn't need his help, so he just laid back against the wall, feet and calves dangling off the edge of his bed. He kicked his checkered shoes off, only to reveal checkered socks, and was quick to grab the goose-necked bottle of clear alcohol from his pocket. He turned it in his hands, reading the label with half-lidded eyes. He didn't actually care what it said, but he was a little bit curious. Who wouldn't be? He learned the hard way to always know what he put in his body, Tom can thank Tord for that. 

Tom stopped turning the bottle in his hands, grip relaxing on the cap seal. 

Tord. 

Tom frowned, jaw clenching. He ripped the cap off the bottle and chugged a fair amount, only to stop and relax his entire body. His head lolled to the side, all muscles loosening in a bout of guilt. He was nowhere near drunk enough to care this much, to care about that devil-horned asshole. His face relaxed and hot, albeit small tears, pricked in his eyes. He bared his teeth to no what at all, self-hatred seething, burning his face and throat just to get out. 

It was his fault that communist bastard had died. He shot the harpoon, he saw it impale that dick and send him crashing. He could feel the fear from Tord, at least hundreds of miles up. At least he thought he did, it wasn't until a week after the incident he realized it was his own.


	2. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much just Tom remembering what happened after the end.

It's not like Tom missed him, that fucker. No one in their right mind would miss him. 

_But...Edd missed him. And Matt missed him. They cried when they finally decided to go over to the cliff._

Tom took another drink. 

_He could've sworn Tord was fine, he saw his unmistakable silhouette before they left the house to get bandages. What was left of it, that is. Tom growled again and took a slightly smaller drink. Communist dick. Destroying their home, almost killing him._

_Almost. Tord didn't actually kill him. Tord didn't send him plunging thousands of feet, after impaling him. Tom didn't burn up in a robotic explosion. Sometimes, he wish had though, as much as his rational mind told him otherwise. Shady fucker deserved to die, but Tom wish he didn't. It-It hurt more than anything to see the look on Edd's face, when they finally saw the cliff. The wreckage, the fire, the...the blood. There-There was so-so much, and, and...._

Another gulp burned it's way down Tom's esophagus. 

_Matt couldn't step any closer. He froze. He may have even passed out, Tom wasn't paying attention. He-He never meant to kill Tord, even if he's admittedly dreamt about it. Edd....He tried to find Tord. T-Tried to find some sort of body. All they found was blood. Blood, and his dumb fucking hat. Tom felt himself getting angry again. Who could blame him, though? It was a damn big bottle of vodka he was drinking, and that stuff went into action fast. Burning, fat, tears began to stream down his face, and he quickly shoved them off. He wasn't gonna cry. Not yet, anyways. Maybe later._

Another drink. 

_Why couldn't Tord have just come for the fucking hat? Why couldn't he have gotten it and left? Why the absolute FUCK did he need to make such a big deal of things, that douchebag! He-He hurt Edd and Matt so..so MUCH. It wasn't fair, to do something like that to them. To only leave dark, bubbling blood in the burning cockpit head of a gigantic red mecha asshole machine. He-He should've left a, a body, or SOMETHING. Edd burned his hands, looking for a body. Matt found a trail of blood that lead to the edge of the cliff and...He panicked._

It hurt too much, to think he killed himself after crashing. 

Down the hatch, the bottle goes. It was halfway empty. An impressive feat, to save the least. Tom had only been angrily mourning for about 15 minutes. 

_Tom remembered staring at the harpoon, unable to think. He couldn't even help Edd attempt to find a body. When-When Matt said he found the trail.....only then, did Tom start to cry. He- He remembered being so...so sad, and so fucking MAD, that failure was such a big deal to Tord. Of course the commie took it personally to some degree, but- KILLING HIMSELF?!_

Tom finally let himself cry. 

_He remembered Edd clutching the hat, like if he let go he'd see a familiar red hoodie at the bottom of the ledge. He remembered...doubting. Maybe it was pain, that caused him to jump. Maybe...Maybe.... Oh god, there was no way it wasn't his fault. No way in heaven or hell that he didn't kill Tord, that bastard._

Tom began to feel numb. His thoughts weren't as vicious as they were the previous week. They were more.... melancholy. 

_Then Matt yelled. He was very vocal, and very scared. He said he saw something, and they were off running. Edd had him by the arm, but at the time, Tom was in his own little world. There was no way Tord had commit suicide, he...he was too proud. Too stubborn. He's rather cut his own limbs off then admit defeat._

Then again, that's....

Only a quarter of the bottle left now. Tom smiled, remembering he didn't have to worry about destroying his liver and/or kidney. It doesn't cross his mind often, but it's a pleasant thing to remember. 

_Matt had only seen a portion of the robot at the bottom of the cliff. Thank fucking god. Edd- Edd decided they should leave. Find some money, rebuild the house, blah blah blah. Tom wasn't paying attention. He only noticed Edd never let go of that stupid hat._

It really made Tom question things, thinking back on it. 

How could someone so cruel, someone who found JOY, in making them suffer, who betrayed them- have such a big impact on them after they die? Why did they care so much? After all, Tord even said they weren't his friends. Tom prided himself in never being friends with Tord. But....

Tom can't help but think, that in his half drunken state, they were both lying. Tord treasured them as much as Edd treasured Cola, Matt treasured himself, Tom treasured Susan...

Maybe Tom thought of Tord as a friend once. Once! He rose his hand, index finger extended, gesturing to no one. Only once. 

Tom then stood, wobbling a bit before steadying himself. He heard the vaguely familiar sounds of some crappy b-movie, and decided he had to be a sneaky ninja. He held the open bottle of vodka in a death grip, slowly creaking his bedroom door open. Matt and Edd hadn't seem to notice anything, as they sounded very invested in the movie. (Matt screamed and Edd laughed, calming him down.) Tom closed his door again and opened the stupid secret lever thing to Tord's old lab. Yes, he had kept it. His reasoning was to figure out what the fuck Tord had been up to, eight plus years ago. Now though, Tom just wanted to see what was left of the original house. They didn't fix this part up, oh no. 

Partially because Tom was pretty sure a lot of it was illegal, and he didn't feel like trying to reason out to the authorities why they had this. Edd agreed. Tom wandered around, noticing small things he hadn't before. It didn't really matter, chances are he wouldn't remember in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was formatting weird, I was trying something new. The chapters might be a bit short, I'm making it up as I go along. :)
> 
> I am not a model writer.


	3. Everything Happens When You're Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is asleep, Edd is the tired mom friend.

Who would've known? Tom certainly hadn't guessed it. The wanted poster Tom had found lay forgotten on the floor, under wire and rubble. The vodka bottle in his hand sloshed as he crouched down, almost on all fours. He nearly fell, but a frown and some arm-waving steadied him. He slowly dragged the tarnished paper out, careful not to rip it. He stared. 

Tom always forgot that Tord was a part of a vigilante group. He glanced at the bottom of the paper. _Red Leader_. Not only was he a member of this group, but he's the leader. Was the leader. Tom plopped down, folding his legs haphazardly and took a long, slow drink of alcohol. He really, really needed it. The waterworks started once again, but he knew, even now, there was nothing he could do to stop it. He stared at the mildly annoyed glare, printed on just to spite him. Tom sighed, agreeing that's the look he'd be getting right now from Tord. He then stood, leaving the bottle behind and stumbling back into his own room, taping the picture to his wall. 

If anyone asks, he's throwing darts at them. It doesn't have holes because he has hundreds of copies. He holds a grudge. Something dumb like that. In reality, Tom knows he's going to sit there and stare. He's going to regret shooting that robot down. He, as much as he hates it, is gonna wish it was his body missing and not Tord's. It shocks Tom, it really does, but he knows why. Believing someone is back home and happy is a lot different than believing you killed a man who was once one of your closest friends. He continues to stare at the picture, before dragging himself to the lab to down the rest of the bottle. He does so, alcohol dribbling down his chin. He tosses it to the side, cracking, but not breaking. Tom finally wipes his face off on his sleeve, and tells himself to clean his hoodie tomorrow. It's covered in booze and tears and snot. Disgusting. 

He whines in the back of his throat, and holds himself in an attempt of subconscious comfort. He almost forgets to close the lab, but he throws something at the lever and hears the wall slide back into place. He flops face first onto his bed, and is out like a light. Before he passes into blissful, hopefully dreamless sleep, he prays to a god he doesn't believe in that the past month is a dream. Sensible. He also prays Edd doesn't get curious and come in. Also sensible. 

\-----------

Tom had been gone for awhile. He'd have normally have come out by now, to say goodnight or SOMETHING. Edd frowned, standing straight and dumping the remains of the movie mess into the trash. He decided to go check on him, as he hadn't been doing so well lately. Tom was being very....distant. Quiet. Not stand-offish, but more like a pushover. To be honest, it made him really uncomfortable. Was Tom beating himself up about.... _it_? That wouldn't make any sense, but it was still a possibility. Quiet Tom was planning Tom, but right now, Edd believed quiet Tom was hurt tom. 

Edd hated that Tom might be upset. It's not that Edd wasn't upset, no! Edd... He looked at his hands, bandages wrapped around various finger and his palms. Edd missed Tord, even if he was only back for a day. Even if he was an asshole towards the end. No one deserves to die. Not like that. Tom...he probably did the right thing, but....Edd wished Tord didn't have to die. They've seen the clones die, in millions of different ways. Those...were clones, though. Tom killed the real one. Maybe...Maybe that's why he's so torn up... _I should really....._

"Edd!" Matt called from the hallway, peeking his head into the kitchen. His face fell slightly when he saw Edd staring at his hands. His eyes flickered to the hat that sat on the corner of the island, gold edges glinting. One single, deep red splotch on the side stood out. Matt coughed to clear the air, then continued, feeling uncomfortable. "I'm.....I'm going to bed now. Just...Figured you might want to know." Matt's cheery, and somewhat ignorant, demeanor reappeared. 

"Oh! Yeah, okay! Goodnight!" Edd waved to Matt, bright smile on his face. Matt waved back and hummed the way to his room. Edd nodded, still smiling, and walked to Tord...Tom's room. It's been Tom's for a long time, but since he came back...Edd sighed. Things have been strange lately. And not the good kind of strange. 

Edd was sure to be quiet when he opened the door, but the scent of alcohol told him he didn't need to be. He finished opening it, and looked around. Mostly just out of curiosity, he told himself. He checked the garbage bin before walking to Tom, who snored lightly. Edd laughed silently, flipping Tom off his face. The snoring ceased. Wow, did it smell in here. The fumes from the alcohol were gonna burn Edd's nose, pretty soon. Edd flushed lightly, and decided to remove the somewhat wet, somewhat smelly hoodie to wash. God, did Edd hope they were close enough friends. Otherwise, there is an awkward conversation in their future. 

Tom shifted, throwing his arm over his face and casting the other over his stomach. One leg curled in, the other attempted to shove itself off the bed. Edd chuckled and folded the hoodie over his arm, careful to avoid the sleeve. It was too shiny for his tastes, and he didn't really wanna find out why. Well, he knew why. Tom had been crying. Edd didn't need the hoodie to deduce that, though. The puffiness around Tom's sockets told the story for him. Edd closed the door, and went straight to the laundry room. Best to have this clean when Tom woke up, and back in his room. Edd could blame it on trolls, or faeries, or something. 

After putting that together, he sat on the couch, determined to blame the mystery undressing on magic. 

Edd fell asleep after putting the hoodie in the dryer. He snored, TV humming soothingly in front of him. A figure smiled from the window. It's shoulders heaved slightly, looking almost like a sigh before it made it's way to the door, clicking away at the tumbler lock. The door opened, slowly at first, then faster, with much more urgency. Two figures poured into the living room, keeping low to the ground. The heavy door closed swiftly, though quietly, and they made their way past Edd, as if they already knew the place. The clothes thief didn't stir. 

They crept into the hallway, vague gestures being their only form of communication. Opening the first door on the left, they slid into a dark blue room, once again shutting the door behind themselves. Flipping Tord's lab lever, one opened it just enough to have the other slip under, before closing it. If the owner of the room woke up, it'd be much easier for one of them to hide then to explain why his wall opened. Though, the smaller of the two guessed, the poor guy wouldn't be waking anytime soon. Drool crept down his chin and his breath was rank with the distinct smell of vodka. Svedka, was it? The figure couldn't tell. He was a little ashamed he knew, though, but his boss had a taste for the stuff as well. The scent is unmistakable if you know it. The figure was pretty sure, though, that this guy liked Smirnoff a lot more, and could down a hell of an amount before he passed out. He wondered if that was just his boss bluffing. He doubted the thought for a second, cause his boss could've easily done something to the drink. He doubted himself again. To be honest, even if he was fairly close to his boss, the guy was a mystery. The figure frowned. A dangerous mystery, now. 

Three very quiet knocks sounded from inside the lab. His partner found what they were looking for. The figure opened the door once more, and his partner slid under, parcel strapped to his back. They moved to leave the room, but the larger of the two stopped them. He pointed to the poster of their boss on the wall. Before...the incident. They aren't allowed to mention it. They shrugged, and in a lapse of judgement decided to mess with the poor drunk. Not in a big way, just scribbling the red army seal on his wall. 

Their boss wouldn't be mad, he did say to leave something behind. A hint, but not so much a clue. 

They slipped out in a matter of seconds, even locking the front door behind them. It wasn't because they had to, but because sometimes they were very nice people. 

 

An explosion on screen woke Edd up, and he was very confused. He remembered the hoodie in the dryer and rushed to put it in his room. He folded them up haphazardly, and stuffed them on the dresser. He was too tired and too avid to avoid the awkward conversation that would come with his actions to do anything more.


	4. Don't get Earthshattering News While Hungover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The adventure of being hungover and finding out your dead ex-friend is very much alive! (if you guys didn't know that by now I suggest reading chapter 3 again)

Tom woke with a start, snorting unintentionally. He looked around, brows knit and mouth gaping. He looked down, slowing beginning to sit up. He wiped his mouth with one hand, pulling his lack of hoodie down with the other. He fiddled with the grey hem, trying to remember what he did yesterday. Drank, that was obvious. His headache made that part of the story clear.

He gave up for the time being, he couldn't bring himself to care enough. Right now he just wanted lots of painkillers and lots of food. 

And his hoodie. Where was that? Tom was almost certain he hadn't taken it off. He looked around for it, mostly on the floor. No drunkard would put a hoodie away. Tom paused. Well, he couldn't put it past himself. He's done some weird stuff before. He shrugged it off, rubbing his one lack-of-eye before noticing his hoodie clean, and folded, on his dresser. 

.....Weird. Oh well. Tom wasn't in the mood to be Sherlock Holmes, so he simply tossed it on and stumbled into the bathroom, brushing his teeth, throwing up in the toilet, and brushing his teeth again. He walked into the kitchen, almost stopping to keep his balance. Edd was already at the fridge. Oooooo.....explaining....

"Hey Tom!" The can fizzed when Edd popped it open, taking a quick sip. He smirked a little, gesturing bemusedly to Tom's being. "Sleep well?" Edd took another sip as Tom just grumbled. Edd sighed, leaning against the counter. "I'll take that as a no." Tom only groaned, clutching his head as he braced himself for a momentary headache. His back was turned to Edd, so he couldn't see the green clad man's eyes roll. "You're looking in the wrong place, Tom." Edd twisted and grabbed some aspirin, and nodded to the coffee pot he spent too long brewing. Let's just say, coffee wasn't Edd's strong point. Tom turned, swifty but gently taking the aspirin from Edd. 

"M'Thanks.." His word didn't really sound like words, but Edd understood them none the less. Tom poured a cup of coffee, and dropped the aspirin in. He watched it fizz, hands gripping the edge of the counter to keep him steady. Edd took a couple more drinks and finished his cola. He dropped it in the recycling, and attempted to leave the room, only to get stopped by Tom. Not physically, but everyone's nicer when you're hungover. "Hey, do you, um," Tom turned, holding his head again. One socket was closed more than the other, and his face was pale shades of green, and a rosy, slightly unhealthy looking flush coated his cheeks. _Man, he was really sick...Today's not gonna be fun for him._ "Do...Do you know how my hoodie got washed this morning?" Edd was genuinely surprised at first, before remembering what he did last night. Oh, this was not gonna be fun. 

"Um..." Edd flushed, itching the back of his head. "N-"

Tom raised his hands, flushing as well. "W-Well, I know it's a bit of a weird thing to ask, man, but um, did I wash it last night?" Edd zoned out a bit, deciding a stoic face was better than overacting. 

"Yes. Yes you did." Edd nodded. "You sang and everything! All-" He began to vocalize some weird tropical song, dancing along. Tom rolled his eyes, laughing airily. 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't make me regret asking already." Tom turned back around, bringing the coffee to his mouth and downing more than half of it. Edd chuckled, relieved Tom bought it. 

"HEYYYY Did I hear what I think I heard?" Matt appeared in the doorway, hands on his hips. Not quite in a sassy way, but he was chipper, to say the least. 

"No." Tom. 

"Yup!" Edd. "Join me?" And there they were, at 11 in the morning. Side by side in the kitchen, dancing and singing (somewhat horribly), a random, tropical tune, that Tom believes he did while washing his hoodie, drunk out of his mind. Fun times in the Eddsworld home, fun times indeed. Tom watched, annoyed, but somewhat happy. His housemates are hilariously dumb, who wouldn't be? They continued to dance, as Tom finished his coffee. 

Eventually, his friends dispersed, and Tom filled his mug with water, downing that. He ate a banana, and figured he should be fine for now. He sighed. The past month has been full of sighs. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and made his way to his room. He figured he should play Susan, cause he _finally_ got enough money together to fix her up. Properly, that is. Duct tape fixes fuckin' everything, but Susan deserved better. He plopped down on his bed, and plucked her from the stand, absentmindedly strumming. A few tunes sounded eerily familiar, but Tom didn't even want to think on why. He couldn't place the name, and he didn't want to dig around and find out. He hummed along to one of his favourites, looking around his room. It's not like he needed to watch his hands, anyways. 

Then he noticed the poster. He stopped playing halfway through a chord, and set Susan down on his bed, only taking his eyes off the poster to make sure she wouldn't fall off. He walked over to it, almost tearing it off the wall. But...he didn't. He just watched it, somehow expecting the Tord in the image to move. He knew it was unreasonable, but...He couldn't really bring himself to expect otherwise. It'd be just like Tord to make some freaky moving picture thing and put it up in his room. 

He stares, taking in the asshole's face. His grey eyes, his weird..blondish-ginger devil horns, the bandaid on his jaw, the gun and the..the uniform. _Red Leader_. Hopefully Edd and Matt haven't found out about that. It'd bring a whole nother wave of depression into the house, and probably impact all of them. Not..Not just Tom. He cursed himself internally for caring so much. You know, maybe he was already depressed. Maybe this just made everything worse. Maybe he needed to see a doctor. 

Tom paused. Seeing a doctor probably wouldn't be smart. I mean, there's the eye thing, the mourning over the Red Leader thing... Yeah, best not to. He sighed, rubbing his face, hoping that this will all be over soon. He hated feeling this bad, it didn't make sense. He's killed Tord before, hundreds of times over. The only thing different now is that...He's not coming back. 

He groaned, looking at the poster again. He's taking that down by the end of the week. A little squiggle on his wall caught his attention. 

"When did....?" He brushed his fingers over it, softly at first, like it might explode if he touched. Then harder, in an attempt to get it off. "What the fuck?" He huffed. He's never seen that before, how the hell did it get on his wall? There's no way he could've drawn it, he'd have to have been drunk. He considered the option, but brushed it off. The penmanship was too neat. His chicken-scratch was illegible when he was drunk. Then who......

Wait. That symbol was on Tord's dumb fucking sofa cubes. Inventions, whatever you want to call them. It's also... Tom whipped around, almost jumping to the other side of the room. Behind the lever there's, well, a red version of that symbol. Sloppier than it was next to the poster but there. Tom pulled the lever to the left for the second time in two days. Up his wall went. He walked into the lab, scrunching his face up when he saw the bottle. Svendka. He chuckled to himself, rubbing his face exasperatedly. If he was going to go for Vodka, he could have at least gone with his favourite. He looked around the broken lab, careful not to touch any chemicals or press any buttons. Even if some of them didn't work anymore, he didn't want to find out which ones. 

The symbol was everywhere. On the panels, on the back wall, sometimes on scattered blueprints. _Holy shit..._ Tom picked up one of the blueprints, one that was more ripped than the others. It was...It was his time machine blueprints. Tord stole his time machine blue prints. You know, the ones he made when he was drunk. Tord had..written some things in the notes, little adjustments. Tom looked down on the ground. He...He had made a prototype. It was broken but...handheld. _Huh, that was smart. Wish I had thought of that._

Tom groaned. He shouldn't have come in here, it only made things worse. 

Fucking communist bastard. Tom stormed out of the lab, casting the blueprints to the side. He slammed the lever down, listening to the quiet hum of the wall before leaving his room. He should probably look that symbol up but...He wasn't in the mood. Not at all. He left his room, walking into the kitchen for some sort of snack. They were all out of alcohol, so not an option there. He was munching on something or other when he heard the news. _Red Leader_ Tom rushed into the living room, slamming into the back of the couch. 

" _ **What?!**_ " Matt jumped, clutching his chest like an old woman and laughed a little, muttering 'Tom' under his breath. Edd glanced over to Tom. 

"Oh, hey Tom! Didn't know you were interested in the news." He popped some more chips into his mouth, eating absentmindedly. Matt nodded. 

"Yeah, nothing better is on right now. Did you hear something interesting?" Matt inquired, looking over at Tom again. 

"I didn't, I don't know why Tom would. Just more Red army stuff." Edd said. Tom wasn't really paying attention to them. _Tord had a whole_ army _?!_ The female news anchor on screen continued. 

"The Red Army is back at it again, after stopping for a short period of time. We aren't sure why such a long break was taken, but officials are estimating that it has something to do with the Red Leader's sudden inactivity." Edd took another handful of chips. 

"Huh. I wonder what's up with that, I've never heard of an army stopping because their boss is tired." Tom shushed Edd, focusing in again. 

"...'The Red Leader, vigilante figure shrouded in mystery, has come back in full force, leading the army in several raids.' Commander Bullshit has said. 'He formally stayed towards the back, landing subtle but devastating blows. Always sure to avoid the cameras.'...."

"Wonder what happened to him. Confidence boost? Looked in the mirror?" 

"Matt!" Tom hissed. Matt shrunk back into the couch a little, pouting. Edd was a little taken aback, but continued eating without questioning it. The other news anchor, some dude with a big forehead and a weirdly chiseled jawline began to talk. 

"It is believed that the Red Leader has gotten sick, and now is the time to strike. More on that at 4." Sick? Tord? _Alive? Tord??_ Tom raced back into his room, slamming the door hard enough to shake the frames in the hallway. His "eyes" focused on nothing as he tried to control his heavy breathing and rapid-fire thoughts. He gagged. 

No matter the news, he was still hungover. He pressed his hand to his mouth, feeling bile and small amounts of food rise up. He raced out of his room and into the bathroom, barely making it in time. His stomach contracted, and chunks of half digested food and putrid bile. He gasped for air, hastily wiping the glistening chyme from his mouth before he retched once more. Tom groaned, whimpering. He rested his head on the cool porcelain, not bothering to wipe the second bout from his chin. This was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys have anything you want to see anything, or if you have any suggestions, feel free to comment!


	5. The Red Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's check up on Tord, shall we? Sorry if this chapter sucks, it was hard for me to write.

Let's just say, the wanna-be leader of the world has been having a hard time. 

The delusions started as loneliness, dread. He was quiet, at first. Wouldn't laugh. Wouldn't smile. Just...watched. His two closest colleagues, Paul and Patryk, started to notice..little things. He wouldn't crack jokes, wouldn't eat unless he was with a group of people. He seemed paler, his eyes darker. He looked like a man whose fire had left him, gone faster than a bullet leaving the barrel of a gun. They hate themselves for not noticing them then. 

Then it was the guilt. That, for Tord, was easier to hide. He'd just become more aggressive. No one dared look him in the eye. If someone spoke out of time, they were shoved against a wall. Or a knife. He had broken 7 arms, 2 necks, and killed 3 people. When he killed someone, you could see the humanity in his face again. He looked...shocked. Scared. And then it was gone. 

And then, it was all over. He was Tord again. Laughing, trigger happy Tord. Back to making uncomfortable jokes, causing unexpected laughter to erupt from people who previously considered themselves his victims. He'd do goofy (relatively unprofessional) jokes about his arm, like detaching it for the over used "need a hand?" or making fun of his burns, and how some of them looked like someone slapped silly putty on his side and didn't finish sculpting it. Everyone was relieved, to say the least. Progress was better than ever. Tord was more connected to the recruits, leading to more and more showing up. They took over various bases and armories, expanding their reach into Northern Ireland and Wales. _Not much there, but it was better than nothing._ as Paul said. 

\-----------

4 AM. 

Tuesday morning. 

Red Leader's Quarters. 

Laughter bubbled up from his throat. Not, happy, joyful laughter. Insane laughter. It erupted from his diaphragm, and into his throat. He tossed his head and arms back, making him look absolutely crazed. It died down into sporadic giggles, and he began to walk. He never left his room, no. You can't go out in pajama pants and a tank top. He hummed as he went, dragging his hands along horizontal and vertical alike. He picked up a pile of papers off his desk, mostly for the hell of it. A big red stamp is very intriguing, yes? He dumped it on the ground. Stamps lie, apparently. It was boring. 

He continued his way around the room, snickering at nothing. Sometimes, when he was _really_ lonely, he imagined his old friends. Not judging him, but making jokes with him. Or at him. It was all in good fun. Right now, he had Tom with him, sitting atop Tord's dresser, pointing out that he should probably go to bed. Tord groaned, smile never leaving his face. 

"Oh, come now Tom, don't be so stupid." He waves Tom off. "I'm just getting started." Imaginary Tom scoffed, leaning back. 

"Yeah, right. What're you gonna do this time, commie?" Tom rolled his eyes. Tord giggles again, lifted a jackknife up high, twisting it so it glinted in the lamplight. 

"Experiment." Tom jumped off the dresser. 

"Hey, woah man. Let's not do that, remember what happened last time? Patryk almost found out." He had his hands up, ready to take the knife from Tord's hands. 

"Don't be stupid! It's not like you can stop me anyways." He played with the knife in his hands, tossing it up and catching himself. He used to get cuts on his fingers, because he never had his robot arm calibrated properly. Imaginary Matt helped him with that. It scared him at first, but then he remembered he's just projecting himself into his friends and out of his mind. Tom was by far the most caring. Most unlike his real self, to sum things up. 

Tom huffed again. 

"Y-Yeah, whatever. Fuck you. Just-Just give me the knife!" Tom lunged at him, tackling him to the ground. Tord only cackled. 

"I'm actually surprised! You must be really vivid, Tom!" Tord shoved Tom's face away with his robotic arm, cutting his own in the process. Tom gasped. 

"Tord!"

"Oh, calm down. It's small." He dragged the blade across his arm, cutting deep into the dermis. He laughed again. "Now, that one...That one, is deep." He grinned at his handiwork, and moved to make another cut. Out of the corner of his eye, he say Tom morph into Edd before going back. _Oh..._ Tord stopped, and looked up. 

"TORD! Wuh-STOP!" Tom was a ways away from Tord, but that changed quickly. He attempted to cover the wound, but the blood continued to flow as freely as ever. Tord stopped smiling, and sliced his skin open again, next to Tom's hands. Crimson dribbled out, staining his navy blue pants. 

"You're supposed to hate me, Tom. Yell at me, call me communist. I'm supposed to ignore it, and prove you wrong." Tom looked up at Tord, looking hurt by the blankness on Tord's face. No more passion, no more insanity. Just...emptiness. 

"W-Why are you doing this?" 

"I'm not trying to kill myself, Tom. It's pain. Pain is human." Tord paused. He carved into his arm again, this time from the wrist to the elbow. He cut the underside slowly, and the blood gurgled up immediately. Deep and dark, almost black, as if it was a head wound. It's probably as deadly. The knife went straight through Tom's fingers. Tom gasped, letting go. Tord sighed. "Pain shows you you aren't dead yet." 

Tord played with the knife once more. He was loosing feeling in his arm again. He felt dizzy. _Wow...Heh. That's a lot of blood._ He heard soft knocks on his door. Tom vanished, fading and twisting into himself. Even though he was gone, Tord could feel Tom's disappointment. Or maybe it was his own. 

"S-Sir? We-We heard you laughing in there. Talking to someone. I-Is everything alright in there?" _Ah, Paul. Always so kind._ A sigh escaped his chapped lips, warm and light. Tord licked his lips before responding, noting he was dehydrated and rapid blood loss isn't such a good thing to match with that. Maybe that's why Tom was so worried. 

"Y-Yes, I...." He zoned out. He had cut too deep. He should have listened to Tom. He looked down. Red. 

There were a lot of instances where he should have listened to Tom. 

"Sir?" Paul sounded more frantic, now. He could hear Patryk whisper something to Paul. Probably trying to decide if they should break protocol or not, and open the door. Tord began to fall. He stuck out his robotic arm to catch himself, but it didn't move. He just fell to his side, into a small pool of his own fluid. Red. 

_Too bad I didn't last as long as I hoped._ Tord sighed again, shutting his eyes just as the door came down. _Oh well._


	6. Panicked Paul

_Who woulda known._

It was a few days after Tom threw his guts up, and found out Tord was alive. He still hadn't told Matt and Edd. Tom was sitting at the kitchen table, head in his hands. Matt and Edd had gone to get the groceries. He wasn't sure why they didn't take him along, but...Tom guessed they pitied him. Tom sighed. If he was them, he'd pity himself too. A loud _thud_ echoed throughout the empty house, making Tom feel even more put out. He hated the stillness of silence. 

_Why do I have to care so much? Why can't I just get over the fact that Tord is very much alive, and probably hates me?_ Tom rolled his head to the side, staring out the window at Eduardo's house. _Tord killed Jon, he doesn't seem to be drinking himself silly. He's out killing more people._ Tom closed his eyes, willing himself not to think about it. 

_Maybe he liked it._

Tom shot up, completely done with his thoughts. His face got hotter, and he stormed into his room. He left the door open, because why the hell not. He's alone. He doesn't have to worry about someone finding him doing something dumb, like venting his anger out on a poster. He never touches that damn thing, but man does he talk to it. He'll shout, scream, cry, and curse. Now that Tom thinks about it, he really hopes there isn't a camera in that thing. He seats himself on his bed, and contemplates playing Susan. _Nah_

That's when he notices the knife, sitting on the desk below Tord. It was smooth, and relatively flat. Tom felt his knees shake as he stood. He lifted the silver blade, opening it. Tom almost dropped it when he saw the blood. He yelped, releasing his grip enough to continue holding it, but someone could easily brush past him and it would be gone. He stared, wondering why in the FUCKING world, would there be a bloody knife in his room. He turned it over, examining the blade. What could he say, he was curious. 

There it was. Tord's symbol. The Red Army. 

_Who....Who put it here?!_

Tom couldn't believe it. He dropped the knife, grabbed his keys, and raced out the door. Not only did he need alcohol, but he needed to find Tord, that dick. Never in his life, would he have guessed that he'd want to see Tord so badly. Tom wanted to grab him by the collar, and shake him so violently that if Tom let go he would collapse on the ground. Tom wanted to punch him in the face, and maybe in the gut, for good measure. He wanted to scream at Tord in person. He wanted to know why. _'Why what?' He would ask, smirking like he already knew the answer. He probably would. 'WHY EVERYTHING!' Tom would scream back, arms flying backwards with exasperation._ Tears pooled in the corner of Tom's eyes as he walked, hands wringing together in his pocket. His face heated up when he realized, and he blinked them away. Fantasy encounters with Tord didn't deserve his tears. Not even fantasy encouters, Tord didn't deserve anything from him! Except for the harpoon to the everything. 

Tom's pace slowed as he thought about it, eyes widening. He gasped a little, sucking in the crisp air. _How did Tord survive the harpoon? The crash? How did Edd not find him? Was-Was he awake, when they went up to the cliff? Was he hiding from them?_ Tom snarled at nothing, and sped up again. _Tord saw him cry about him. Cry for him. He must be pleased with himself, that asshole._

Tom turned into his favourite liquor store, grabbed his Smirnoff, payed, and left. No time to daddle, he had to find and beat a communist's face in. The city bus pulled into the stop, and Tom jogged to catch up with the last of the crowd before it pulled away. He didn't have time to walk to the Red Army Base. 

Yes, the Red Army Base. Of course Tom already knew where it was, it's all over the news. He's just surprised he never thought to go there earlier, he had a month to figure this out. Plus, the marker, and the knife? Maybe they wanted him to come. Tom clambered onto the bus behind some elderly woman, sneakers squeaking on the grooves of the steps. He payed the bus fare, and sat down behind the bus driver. Since absolutely no one did that, he'd have time to think. _By himself._

 _Honestly, how had he missed this? Tord was up and fighting a week after the incident, the clues were_ literally _in his room._ Tom scolded himself. He hated how dumb he was, how many tears he shed. Then, he remembered that he was going to an Army base. They were probably going to shoot him on sight. Tom began to doubt this plan. 

_Three stops left,_ he reminded himself. Looks like he was going to carry through with this. The lady he followed on the bus hobbled off, dropping her purse as she turned to leave. He leaned down and picked it up for her out of habit, forcing a smile onto his face and he handed to her. 

"Oh, thank you, young man!" Her voice wavered with age. He smiled softly. It was kind of humbling. _Maybe I need more old people in my life._ He joked, turning away and chuckling to himself. "So nice..." He heard as she exited the bus. He smiled out the window, sighing. This was gonna be hard to explain to Edd and Matt was he got back. If, he got back. Tom suddenly felt a lot more at peace with dying. 

\----

Tom had zoned out, and now the bus driver was talking at him. 

"Hey, kid! You getting off, or not?" Tom nodded, rubbing his "eyes". 

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He stood, looking around in an attempt to gain his bearings. He noticed he was the only one on the bus. "Oh."

"Come on, come on, it's poker night, I got places to be!" Tom mumbled an apology and hurried off the bus, running a hand through his hair as he took a small jump off the stairs. "Oh, watch out, kid. You seem like a nice guy. There're some baaad people in this area that'd use that against you." The bus driver waved his finger in the air while closing the doors. _Oh, comforting. Even the bus driver thought this was a bad idea._

Tom sighed, shoving his hands back into his pockets. He looked around, trying to figure out where to go next. There weren't exactly signs saying 'This way to painful death!' 'Turn left at Nightmare Lane!' Wait, he could just use a GPS. Tom pulled his phone out from his back pocket, flicked it open and went to the 'maps' app. _What the hell would I search for?_ Tom realized he didn't know what the name of the base was. He typed 'Red Army Base' for the hell of it, and low and behold, it actually popped up. He huffed, following the app down the road and to the right. This really wasn't a good idea. But he was here now, so why turn back? A couple more roads, a couple more turns, a couple terrifying horrid looking people, and there it was. 

He was really regretting doing this. There was a giant, almost cement wall separating the outside world. It sort of reminded Tom of the Great Wall of China, with all the watchtower full of guards that want to kill him. He sighed, putting his phone back into his pocket and contemplating the possibility of him dying that day. He approached the wall, touching it with a shaky hand. He cursed himself for being so scared, but who wouldn't be? 

"Hey! Step back from the wall or you'll have a bullet between the..." The guard stop, staring at his face. "Uh." Tom rolled his eyes, letting his arms relax. No point in interrupting the poor guy. "You'll have a bullet in the brain! Turn around before you'll do something you'll regret!" The man shouted. 

"Yeah, okay! Just- I need to see Tord! The um, Red Leader? Right, that's his name?" Tom was really doubting all this. His voice trailed off, into incoherent mumbles. 

"Y-You're a recruit?" The guard shouted.

"Recruit? N-" Tom noticed that this was probably his only was of getting in. He could convince people once he's inside, but right now he just needed to make sure he stayed alive long enough to do so. He groaned. "Yes, I'm a new recruit." He heard some rather loud clattering before the gate opened. Three guards were armed with guns, ready to shoot him down. Two came and grabbed his arms, almost lifting him off the ground. For the hell of it, he brought his feet up. The guards were surprised at first, but huffed a small laugh and exchanged glances before carrying him inside. 

They dropped him, and began talking. He yelped, but quickly brushed it off and decided to go stoic again. 

"Alright, The Leader won't be seeing recruits for a couple weeks. So you'll be living in your quarters with the other recruits until either he, or one of his men come down to evaluate you all." Tom gasped, shuffling back. 

"A couple _weeks??_ I can't wait that long! I just need to see Tord!" Tom has to get out of here. He can NOT stay here for weeks, just for the _possibility_ that he will see Tord while _joining_ the Red fucking Army!

"Tord?" The man looked surprised at first, but dismissed it, snarling. "He is a addressed as the Red Leader, or Leader, and nothing else." The man paused, looking over at Tom with a sideways glance. _Ugh._ "What is your relation with the Red Leader?" Tom paled. What does he say? He can't go around telling people he's the guy who shot their leader out of the sky. 

"U-Uhm, nothing. I-I don't know him." Tom paused. "Why's it matter, anyways?" Tom was getting fed up with this. He had to go, now. The guard turned to him. On second thought, maybe he wasn't a guard. His uniform was fancier than the others. Tom glanced at his name tag. _What kind of language is that?_ He squinted, before he discerned that it was upside-down and this guy's name was Paul. "Look, _Paul,_ if I can't see T-The Red Leader," Tom hated himself so much right now. "I should probably just be going." Paul raised his gigantic eyebrows. 

"You wouldn't happen to be..Edd, or Tom, would you?" The question caught him off by surprised, to say the least. He stepped back. _Shit shit SHIT._

"What? N-no. Just take me out. I have people-" 

"Tom, right? It's Tom? I'd be surprised if it wasn't you, to be honest. You're a very hard person to mistake." Tom bit his lip. 

"Well shit. Look, I'll leave, please, Edd and Matt are wondering where I am right now." Tom groaned. He didn't have time for this! He was gonna die, and Edd and Matt will probably never find out why. Tord'll just fucking laugh, that douchebag. "I'm sorry for shooting your Leader out of the sky. But he's fine, right? Soooo you should just let me go and _not_ shoot me." Fuck, he was rambling. This wasn't going well, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. 

The man laughed. He sighed, almost sounding relieved. "No no, we won't kill you." The others looked shocked. Paul waved them off, and they obliged, looking rather put off and irritated. _Guess surviving wasn't part of the plan._

And then Paul was off. He had Tom by the hood, almost dragging him through various halls, twisting and turning. Man, was Tom glad he didn't have to wander around here alone. There was no WAY he would survive. He'd end up starving in some mystery room. They finally stopped, sending Tom stumbling. Paul was talking through the door, barely paying attention to the person he dragged through the halls like baggage. Tom looked up. 'Infirmary.' _......What?_

The door opened, and Paul pulled him to the side before shoving him in. "Be careful, Tom. He's not the same. He's been..." Paul breathed out. "Unstable. We were gonna come get you, but here you are." Paul smiled coyly, patting him on the shoulder. Tom has never been more confused in his life. He stumbled into the room, turning around only to have to door shut in his face. 

"Ohh, Tom! Long time no see, old friend!" 

Oh. Fuck. No. 

Tom turned around. Slowly, and unbelieving. There he was. Wrapped in bandages, clad in sweatpants and his hoodie. Only half his face was skin, the rest was...Wrapped up. Did...Did Tom do this?

"Don't be so quiet, don't be so shocked!" He grinned. "You were there when this happened." Tom froze. 

"I-I...I was?" Tord simply nodded, rolling his eyes. 

"Of course! I cut straight through your fingers." Tord's eyes went dark, his grin turned smirk. Tom stammered. What in the fucking world was Tord talking about?


	7. Scalpels and Smirnoff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter, mostly based on confusing and the beginning of earth-shattering revelations.

He couldn't believe it. He didn't expect anything that was happening right now. He expected Tord, sitting in some boss chair, behind some giant desk, mocking him for even coming. But, that would be the definition of what is not happening right now. Tord has plopped Tom down into a chair, insisting he sit, and is rambling about how Tom was nicer than Edd, and nonsense like that. It was honestly terrifying. This man was sick. You could see it in his face, his skin...He looked malnourished and frail but the way he threw things around proved otherwise. 

And now Tord was taking his hoodie off. 

"TORD!" Tom yelled. "What-What the hell are you doing?!" Tom felt his face heat up, and he resisted he urge to curl into himself. 

"Calm down, Tom, it's just hot in here. I've been couped of for daays." Tord looked to him, but Tom wasn't focusing on his face. His...His arm. His right arm. Tord's brows furrowed together. Just as he was about to speak, Tom breathed out. 

"Holy shit.." Tom stood, body shaking as he approached Tord. "What...What happened?!" He couldn't help it. Tord's arm...Tord's arm was gone! All that was left was a stub, attached to a bright red machine. He couldn't believe it, he didn't _want_ to believe it. 

"Don't be so surprised, Tom. This happened during the crash. Same with this." He pulled his face bandages off, revealing hideous burns. Then moved to lift his tank top up, showing even more off. Tom covered his mouth. H-He never expected it to be this bad. Everything that wanted to beat the shit out of Tord was gone. He wanted to forget ever seeing him. Tord laughed. "There you go with being to nice again! What happened to that fighting spirit before the crash, Thomas?" Before? Tom lowered his hands, stepping back unconciously. 

Tom has never been so confused before. _Before_ the crash? Tord was seriously starting to scare him. 

"B-Before? Tord, I haven't talked to you since then. What-"

"Really? I distinctly remember you trying to stop me from accidentally killing myself." Tom froze. Tord had tried to kill himself? Was Tord suffering from hallucinations?? 

"D-Did you do it with a jackknife?" It was the only thing Tom could thing to ask. It would explain everything, but it wouldn't tell him how to help. What was he supposed to do? He came to the base with intentions of beating the shit out of Tord, but now that Tom actually saw him...He had no idea what he wanted to do. 

"There we go, finally catching on! Ah, here we are." 

And there Tom went. Before he could even process what his body was doing, he was wrestling a scalpel from Tord's hand. 

"Damnit Tord, what the fuck is wrong with you?! Let go of the blade already!" They fell onto a bed, and Tord accidentally sliced across Tom's nose. 

"Oooh, adding visual effects, are we? That's new." Tom growled. 

"No! No visual effects, you fucker! Just drop it already, you're being insane!" Tom probably threw some other creative curses in there, but he wasn't paying attention. It was too mind-numbing, the fact that Tord had been hallucinating him. 

"Just as caring as ever, I see. Normally by now, you've faded away, or started crying. It was a lot easier to guilt me into stopping when you did that." Tord replied, accidentally tossing the scalpel to the side. Tom threw him off the bed, and stood, huffing. 

"Well, I'm not gonna fade away, and I'm certainly not going to start crying! I'm not a fucking hallucination, Tord!" Tord looked shocked. 

"You're..."

"Real, you fucking bastard! What the hell happened to you?" Tom was done with this fight. He pressed his sleeve into the cut on his nose, cursing under his breath. He pulled out the Smirnoff from his pocket, popped the cap and chugged a quarter. This is not how he wanted this conversation. Tom wasn't even sure he ever wanted to have this conversation, now that he was here. He groaned. He was probably stuck here, now that he thought about it. 

Tord was sitting on the ground, looking lost. He probably was lost. The man who shot him out of the sky sat in front of him with very real cuts and bruises. 

"So...You're Thomas. Not- Me. Real Thomas." Tom sighed. 

"Yes. Anything else you want to cover?"

"Why are you here?"

Tom stopped. He stared at Tord. He...looked like a little kid. So much smaller than you'd expect the Leader of the Red Army. Then again, he's taller than Tom. But...he didn't look it. He looked miserable, lonely. Tired. And then Tom remembered the question. _'Why are you here?'_ He sighed. He didn't have an answer for that. Not yet, anyways. 

 

 

(A/N: Hey guys, this is literally the only A/N you will see. I'd really like your input for this story, if you have any! I'll be gone for a week or so on vacation, so no updates from the 29th to the 10th. If you have anything you want to see, please feel free to comment! See you later)


	8. A Spoon Full of Emotions Makes the Angst Go Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All it takes is a mental breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly planned this to be a lot more civil and dialoug-y, to be honest. Then again, I haven't planned one thing in this story.

"What's it matter?" He plopped into a wooden chair, noting to never do so again as he took another swig of Smirnoff. It was a very uncomfortable chair. 

" _What's it matter?_ Oh, well that's the understatement of the year, Thomas. Fuck you too." Tord stood, crossing his arms and staring Tom down with one eye. Tom groaned. _There's the Tord I know._ Tom was no where NEAR sober enough for this. He was regretting coming, he was regretting everything. Tord groaned at Tom's silence. He was having none off this. He growled. "I advise you to tell me, Thomas. Who let you in? Who let you near _me?_ " He gestured to himself with a metallic hand before rushing into Tom's face, inches away from their foreheads touching. His breath was hot on Tom's face, which caused a light blush to dust over his cheeks. The shock of the sudden closeness had frozen Tom, but he regained his thoughts. 

"Fuck man, personal space!" Tom shoved him back, sending the "Norski" stumbling. "Some dude with huge eyebrows and an upside-down nametag shoved me in here, I wanted to leave as soon as I entered the base!" Tom huffed, standing. "I just-" He paused, hand stopping mid-motion before thinking his words over for once. He wasn't about to admit to his _archenemy_ he felt guilty for sending him home with a missing arm and a potentially blind eye. Not in a million goddamn years. Even if... He sighed, exasperatedly lowering his hand. Even if he felt horribly guilty. God, he hated it with a burning passion, but...He scoffed. "It doesn't matter why I came."

"Paul." Tord breathed. He laughed, the sound dripping with venom. "Wonderful." He turned to Tom. "If that's all that matters..." His voice dropped. Tord's head dipped back, his eyes scanning the ceiling in what appeared to b contemplation. It then snapped forward, jarring Tom. He "Why are you still here?" It sent chills down Tom's spine. He shivered, shuffling back before stomping towards the door. 

"Well I'm not gonna be, good luck with your stupid hallucinations, commie." He grumbled, cursing vividly in his head while turning the knob. Nothing happened. 

He slammed into the door _while_ turning the knob. Nothing happened. He froze, face turning red. There goes his dramatic exit. He turned to Tord again, mouth open to explain the situation. When his "eyes" set on the other man, though, Tom noticed he wasn't even looking at him. The silence should have been enough, but the visual clarification made it worse. Tord was staring at the ground, posture lax and mouth open as if he was gonna say something, but nothing had come out. Tom cringed, muttering a small _'shit'_ under his breath. It was a low blow, wasn't it. 

Tom had done a lot of things today, and to be honest, he wasn't prepared to add 'coddling his enemy' to the list. He had cried drunk and sober over his enemy, abandoned his probably worried-sick friends to visit his enemy, got a cut on the nose by his enemy, but never, _never_ trying to save his enemy from his own mental hell that Tom had probably brewed for this man. Tom couldn't leave, much less fight his way out _knowing_ he did this to him. 

"Tord...?" The word was quieter than he thought it'd be. Tord didn't move. If Tom squinted, he could've sworn Tord had teared up. His visible eye was glazed, the normally piercing silver turned an almost melancholy grey. Tom had no idea how that was possible. But then again, Tord envisioning Tom as the nice one seemed impossible until today. He squared his shoulders, feeling smaller than normal. "Tord?" Tom repeated, louder. Tord noticeably flinched, before turning into an asshole again. He crossed his arms, one hip jutting out to display his ever-present sass. 

"What do you want, Jovie?" Tom sighed. He was done with this. Done with the arguments, done with the names. The poor bastard needed help, not someone from their past poking fun at their mistakes. Everyone makes those, so why should....Fuck, Tom couldn't even finish the excuses he was pitching to himself. He just-just felt so _goddamn motherfucking guilty_. He groaned, the noise a mix between a sigh and the former. He ran a hand over his face, letting it pull at his skin before it dropped off. Tord wasn't looking at him when he responded. 

"How bad have they gotten?" Tord's eyes widened once more, fumbling to regain the air of nonchalance that was normally present around him. His mouth opened and closed a number of times in a matter of milliseconds before he chocked out coherent words. 

"W-what?" Tom sighed again, leaning against the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets, forcing himself not to look around the room. 

"How bad are your hallucinations, Tord?" 

And that's when Tord fell. He crashed to the ground, body thudding in the "graceful" scene that played out in front of the eyeless musician. Tord was muttering, completely ignoring the real Tom. His hands were raised, covering his face and blocking the phantom attack with his forearms. Tom froze. He had no idea what to do, what was going on. _Was-Was his delusions so bad he could feel them? Do I help? Do--Do I just watch?? What do I do?!_

"Fuck..." Tom breathed. He pressed himself against the door, desperately trying to look away. He-He just couldn't, it was too devastating. This was all his fault. Tord yelled, his face drenched in cold sweat and agony. Nothing physical appeared on the Norwegian's body, but he screamed like something was digging into him. He was writing on the ground, trying to fight away a person that wasn't there. Tom could've sworn he heard his name. 

When that clicked, his knees gave out. Tord-Tord was being fucking _mamed_ by Tom. That's...That's how he saw Tom. _'Didn't he say I was the nice one?'_ Tom sucked in the air around him, trying to fill his lungs. He felt so fragile right now. Lungs like paper bags, body like glass, heart beating like a child's drum and mind like a race car, speeding from place to place, sentence to sentence, never letting Tom catch up. Before he knew it he was crawling over, shaking and scared. The sounds Tord was making sounded like death on replay, sending Tom further and further into oblivion with every screech. 

He stopped, inches away from Tord. He still wasn't thinking, still wasn't truly conscious. He sat on his haunches, and scooped the poor man off the ground. At first he kicked, yelling in a language foreign to Tom's ears. He punched, twisting in Tom's heavy grasp. He wasn't fighting very hard though, because his metal arm lay still against Tom. He stopped, realization sinking in like a wave washing over a shell on the shore. 

Tord's shaky breath was hot against Tom's ear. Tord muttered something, and Tom sighed in momentary disappointment. _'I can't believe I didn't catch that..'_

Tord's metal arm started back up, slowly moving away from being balled up between their chests. It moved along Tom's ribcage, and under his arm, and resting on his shoulder blade. The other did the same, and Tord buried his face into Tom's hoodie. 

It took awhile for Tom to feel the tears. 

 


	9. A lil bit of Fuck No All Night long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom runs out of Smirnoff and decided to get more.

_This is not happening. This is_ not _happening._

It had been hours since Tom had come to the Red Army Base in the first place. HOURS. The sun had gone down. The moon had come up. There were no lights on in the base. 

Well, from what he could tell. Tom sat in a swivel chair, legs pulled up to his chest. He had debated taking blankets from one of the infirmary beds, but decided against it. Mostly out of sheer laziness. 

It wasn't like he was afraid, no. Of course not. He actually felt a little peaceful, despite all odds. The moonlight was bright, and it shone through various barred windows on the far wall, illuminating everything from specks of dust to the infirmary door with a soft pale glow. The rays illuminated the bottle of Smirnoff in hand, twinkling as he swirled it. He look a long drink, downing what remained in one go. 

The peaceful atmosphere didn't ease the fact he was locked in. With his "archenemy" no less. Tom shifted his eyes to the sleeping form of the-- _'Cyborg? Is that what he is now?'_ Tom sighed, grumbling as he tucked the empty bottle between himself and his knees. They had to sedate Tord after the whole screaming fiasco. They almost sedated Tom, too, but he insisted (very forcefully) that things wouldn't end well if they did. So they left him. Locked. In the infirmary. With Tord. 

Oh joys. 

In full honesty, it dumbfounded Tom. 

_He didn't know how it happened. One minute he was trying his hardest not to react, the next, there was screaming. Russian, Polish, Norwegian... Tom understood none of it. He's pretty sure he flew when he heard the gunshots, he slammed himself right into the bathroom door, almost cracking it. He cringed when he felt the warmth of his own blood trickle down his face, but the shock was short lived. He looked up to see..Paul, was he? Literally manhandling Tord. The 5'8 communist country-enslaver. Like a child. With a gun._

_He couldn't help but stare at the horrific scene that played out in front of him. Paul lifted Tord with ease, arms wrapped so tight around Tord's midsection that it was surprising he could breathe. Tord trashed around, screaming in so many different languages Tom was surprised...Patryk....? could pick up on...whichever one the three of them spoke. Tord would be in a frenzy, clawing at Paul like an animal. Tools used varied from his nails, to knives and scalpels. Patryk stood to the side, wrenching the fucking demon of Paul every once and awhile, desperately trying to get his leader to calm down. When Tord pulled a gun from his pocket--_

_'Had he always had that? W-Why didn't he use it earlier? W-'_

_Gunfire._

_Blam, blam. You could barely hear the casings hit the ground over the commotion. Luckily, Tord didn't hit anything, but it caught the attention of five or so more guards. They all rushed it, and it took at least four of them to subdue Tord. Even in his blind frenzy, (Tom had yet to figure out what caused it), Tord was deadly. They all yelled in Russian, demanding for different measures to be taken. Patryk, taking a moment's break from tending to Paul-_

_'Were they dating, or something?'_

_Barked orders at the fifth member of the fiasco, who quickly jabbed a needle into his boss' thigh._

_Tord stilled. Slowly, the other four lifted their hands, worried and covered with sweat. It surprised Tom, really. Three beefy men and one stocky girl having so much trouble to stop the little gremlin. The shortest of them all stood, bracing himself on his knees._

_And then he got a foot to the face. Tom pressed himself against the door with such urgency that he was certain he broke it. Tord was up again, yelling in (what Tom guessed to be) his native tongue, seeing as none of his men understood him. Tord seemed to have abandoned his gun, brawling with bloodied fists and probably a cracked skull. What sane man headbutts people anyways?_

_He took out four of the seven before the drugs kicked in. His movements slowed, eyes fluttered, and he hit the ground with a thud._

Tom shuddered. Somehow, he manages to forget how much of a beast Tord is. He glanced at his lap, mourning the lack of alcohol. He mumbled something about being too sober, (despite his lack of sobriety), prior to standing. He let the bottle clatter to the ground, certain it wouldn't wake Tord. He stretched, shivering as his muscles loosened and bones popped. He needed to find a better seat than some random swivel chair, because holy FUCK ow. 

He dropped his eyes, staring at Tord for a couple seconds before heading towards the door. 

His footsteps echoed in the silence, reverberating off the presumably cement walls before reaching his ears. Not wanting to put up with the now-chilling horror-movie-esque atmosphere, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Mmm. Cozy. 

Despite knowing the door was locked, he tried the handle anyways. It shook a bit, but that was all. He proceeded to press his face against the small glass pane, fingertips scratching at the wooden sill. No one. 

Tom groaned. Thumping his head against the door. So much for asking. He stood there for what felt like an eternity, yet a matter of seconds, before hearing faint footsteps. He listened for a good while before deciding they were too rhythmic to be anything else. He beat on the door, quietly at first, quickly getting louder when Tom noticed the person hadn't heard him. He stopped when he heard them stop. For a moment, he felt lost. A bit melodramatic, he'll never admit, but he really wanted more alcohol. 

And then they started again, getting closer and closer. He panicked, stepping away from the door. 

_What is he supposed to do? What if they don't know who he is? What if they shoot him?_ Tom shook the doubts from his head. No one's gonna shoot him. 

He didn't give himself a reason why. 

Tom approached the door once more, deciding it was time to start talking. Y'know, make sure they know you're a person.

He whispered; "Hey! Soldier! Over here!" The footsteps quickened. 

A little louder; "Yeah, locked in the infirmary! Come on!" A familiar face stared at the wood of the door, seeming to ignore the obvious man peering through the glass. 

"...Sir? I-Is that you?" Tom groaned. 

"Do I sound like that devil-horned bastard?" He spoke at full volume this time, showing off his muddied British accent. The figure sighed, seemingly out of relief. 

"Thomas, I presume?" The soldier showed off an accent of his own, making Tom confused. He certainly hadn't heard that one before. It sounded kinda German. But...not?

"Uh. Yeah. Mind letting me out?" He paused. "It's Patryk, right?" The figure, Patryk, nodded, smiling faintly. 

"Yes, my name is Patryk. And no, I don't believe I can let you out." Tom scoffed, offended by the answer. 

"But I'm out of alcohol! I'm to sober for seven minutes in hell with a communist vegetable!" Patryk looked surprised for a second, before raising an eyebrow skeptically. He looked at Tom this time, instead of the wooden door. 

"I don't believe the leader of the Red Army is a vegetable. Last time I checked, he was simply a Norwegian with a strange past and a dash of pent up aggression." Hearing Patryk, one of Tord's best, refer to him like that, Tom couldn't help but laugh. A low guttural chuckle erupted in the silence before Patryk continued, voice laced with satisfaction. At least the strange ex-housemate liked his sense of humour. It was comforting, knowing Tord didn't always have a stick up his butt. Patryk concluded that Tom would have been attacked a lot sooner, if that was the case. 

"That, and you had a rather large bottle of Vodka in your pocket when you entered. I'm sure you can't be sober." He paused, deep in thought for a moment. "If you are, I have to admit I wish I had your alcohol tolerance."

Tom flushed, embarrassed he hadn't thought of that. He was quick to the uptake, though, not passing up this chance for meaningless banter. Tord was asleep, after all. He had literally no one to talk to. 

"I have a pretty average alcohol tolerance. I'm just a high-functioning alcoholic." Patryk furrowed his brows, in disbelief and awe. 

"So you're drunk?"

"That's not something I'm willing to admit." Patryk scoffed softly, keys jingling on his hip as he reached for them. He blew long (admittedly silky looking) bangs from his face as he did so. He lifted them to the window, shaking them slightly. 

"I'll let you out, but you have to stick with me. Sadly, I'm one of the kinder soldiers here." Tom stepped back from the door, jittery with anticipation. Finally, he gets to see this place. He'd be more worried about escaping, normally, but right now he just wanted his Smirnoff. Patryk opened the door. Tom forgot he was that tall, damn. The tree-man kept his hand on the knob, a gentle but worried smile placed carefully on his face. "I recommend you stay close to me." Tom followed his lead and walked out, mumbling a quiet thank you as he passed. He turned just in time to watch Patryk stare at Tord, all positivity wiped from his face. Poor guy almost looked sick with worry. 

Tom watches as the man closed all locked the door. "We'll have to get you back before he wakes." Patryk deadpanned, before regaining a nonchalant happiness. "Anyways, I'll have to take you to the mess hall. I _strongly_ suggest you stick with me in there." He smiled, turning away from Tom and swiftly starting their journey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you guys got any Redsonas you'd like to see in the fic? I have a couple lined up, (hopefully they'll let me use them), but if you guys know any awesome writers/artists, please message me/comment and I'll see what I can do! Hell, maybe even use some of yours if I can.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is my first fic, and I apologize if it's shit. I also apologize if I missed important spelling errors. I didn't have a plot when I started writing, but I'm sorta happy with the way this turned out. Hope you enjoyed, I'll update soon. ;0


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